Blood above all
by MarquisDeYuca
Summary: Darth Nox, slave turned Sith Inquisitor, has achieved the impossible and has ascended to the Dark Council. He is now a living God among mortals in the Empire. But he'll soon discover that the past can tear down the mightiest of palaces
1. Chapter 1

Rain. Hot, falling like hail. It stabbed at Darth Nox's face and diluted the sweat and blood dripping from his brow. His dark hair matted into his eyes, the clean, trim beard in which he prided himself frayed into a primal, burnt mess. The wind would have sent lesser men over the ledge. A constant, harsh crackle filled the air as the water hit his lightsaber, hissing. The caustic vapor that snaked from the blade stank of ozone. The red glow only accentuated the fury in his eyes. Every breath was his own personal hell: he could feel where the blasted thing sliced his side. He needed attention fast, sure that at least three ribs were broken. Possibly a punctured lung. Smoke coiled in through his nose, burning everything in its path. Hate pulsed through his veins like acid. Passion was old hat to him, but this was different; true loathing. Nox pressed his boot harder into the monster's neck, relishing the weak pulse underneath. He ached to kill it. With every fiber of his being.

And sensing his thoughts, it laughed at him. It was cold and harsh like Zash. Dark. Like it should be coming from the mouth of a smiling demon. Something in Darth Nox began to stir. That crooked, knowing laugh infuriated him, but there was something else too, something familiar. Pushing it down, Darth Nox, Dark Lord of the Sith, Thronebreaker, Dreamwalker, and Member of the Dark Council hovered his lightsaber over its mask, readying himself for the final blow. It too was scarred, it's black armor was cracked in several spots, revealing burnt flesh. This...thing...needed to blade hummed loudly. Darth Nox hissed through clenched teeth: "Any last words?" The mocking laugh grew in intensity. If this really was...Darth Nox shuddered. No. The beast seemed unaffected, as if it were humoring a child. The laughing suddenly stopped. Its words bore deep into Nox, straight into his heart. "You were my greatest disappointment." That phrase. For the second time in his life, he felt true, animal fear. His olive tan face blanched to a milky white. He steeled himself as best he could. He prayed his voice would not break "This blade has taken the lives of vermin more worthy than you. You are nothing, I am a member of THE DARK COUNCIL-" Nox discovered he was bellowing to the burning creature before him, "-I AM SITH. Beg for mercy imposter, and I just might grant you a quick death." There was only the wind and the caustic hiss from his lighstaber. Life itself held its breath. "You dare make me beg you insolent little brat? You are not Sith, you are a coward, Argiosul, a pathetic, jumpstart SLAVE!"

He could only whisper, "No-" before he was falling, falling, falling. The last image in his life was the now clear face of his monster.

Mother.

Argiosul awoke drowning, gasping for breath. His hands quickly went to his neck, gnawing at the collar that was no longer there. Old habits die hard. Sighing, he sat up in his bed, savoring the fear, letting it envelope him, and evaporate into the night. It meant he was still alive. Yet this was the seventh dream in a month. His last bout of night-terrors had been before he left for the Academy. Argiosul didn-no, DARTH NOX didn't know what this meant, and that infuriated him. He had buried his slave name, his mark of shame, and put it to rest with his other ghosts. Her laugh still haunted him, softly reverberating around the chambers. He shuddered, sleep was out of the question. Darth Nox tossed aside the sheets, grabbed his gown off the floor, his feet walking the well worn path. The cold-tile helped wake him up. His complex by the Citadel came with a gigantic display of the galaxy. It was spectacular. Hundreds of little lights, each one with millions of little slaves looking up and dreaming. At least, that's what Argiosul used to think. It was in the stars he found something bigger than himself, more powerful. Something worth study. Not hope, or the promise of a better life, he had given up on that long ago, Argiosul instead found the promise of revenge. He knelt before the living Force, closed his eyes, and lost himself.

The night of his acension to the Dark Council was the greatest of Argiosul's pathetic life, for he could finally die. He was now Darth Nox, and moreover, Lord over most every other being in the Sith Empire. After ordering his followers to their respective new posts, the rest of the night was a blur. He remembered a feast, where Corellian Red flowed like water. It could've been the wine, but he was pretty sure Khem and Xalek were both in high spirits, trading war stories and scars. Both of them monstrous titans, yet now almost jovial. Then again, it was the first time in years he had been drunk. Countless bottles and plates, all of the finest quality. Why shouldn't they have been? They earned it, this was the dawn of something big. They were going to change the Empire, the Sith, and tonight was just the first step. Talos was babbling on about all the archeological expeditions they could comission now. Darth Nox couldn't wait to secretly approve each one. Andronikos tried to convince anyone who'd listen a week in Nar Shadaa was a good idea. He was possibly a loose cannon, but he was still the best damned pilot Darth Nox had ever seen. And Ashara? A smile flicked across his lips in the dark. She demured quietly to all the conversation around her, but locked eyes with him all night. God she was beautiful. After everyone had stumbled to their respective chambers...It was frenzied, lustful, ravenous. She couldn't bear to be in the same room with him for days after, but the emotions that hung around them both were more intoxicating than the wine. The crew sensed it too, trading awkward smirks between the two. They loved it.

More memories swirled about. They played at the same time, past and present, the distinction blurred. There was the Dashade kneeling before him, the first time anything had done so. His old master hitting him. Zash revealing her true form. Sharing his body with the ghost of Sith long dead. Seeing Ashara dance with her saber, and feeling a pang in his chest as they battled together. Standing over Thanaton's corpse. That fateful night so many years ago when he discovered he had lightning in his veins...

Then an ear-splitting screech. He couldn't hear his own screams. An apparition stood before him, leaning on the wall. Clean shaven. Simple tunic and leggings. Collar at his neck. The three vertical slave brands on his face that had faded over the years now raw and fresh. And that damned, knowing smile.

The screech stopped. Argiosul the slave began to clap. "Lookit yoo, mi'lord. Gotcha bunch of little underlings to kneel 'fore you, fancy title, nice sword. Almost forgot all about me, dinnitja ya bastard?" Darth Nox could only look up with hate in his eyes. He had worked for decades to kill that rolling drawl, to perfect the Imperial accent. He raised his hand, commanding a storm of wrath to immolate this lowly slave to oblivion. But it did not come. The power in his core was silenced. He was just a kneeling man with his hand in the air. The apparition chuckled."Come this fahr, almost makes ya think you're worth sum'n." He smiled, approaching. "Yoo of all people should know, boy, Sith aren't made," He clenched Darth Nox by the throat, pulling him up to his face, hot breath smothering him, "-they're born." The slave tossed him across the room, hitting the wall. Darth Nox struggled to his hands and knees, and spat blood onto the floor. "Come back home, boy, alohne." Darth Nox spat at him, "Why should I?" Argiosul was already backing away. "Aquinare thought yoo might like a graduation present. Ta!" With a flick of his hand, the apparition melted into the darkness.

Few Sith had the power to create and send a physical apparition, much less one so powerful as to block his force powers, or so...vocal. Either it was his sister or another sith truly knew his past. Neither option was appealing. The crew found Darth Nox sitting against the wall the next morning, bruised and lost in thought. He shrugged off their help, pushing himself off the floor. They stared. It had taken too long to earn their respect, a moment of weakness like this was a major setback. Ashara whispered, "Are you allright my lord?" Darth Nox's voice came out cold, flat. "I'm taking the Fury. Don't wait up."


	2. Chapter 2

II.

It had only been a week since his inauguration, but in truth, Argiosul never died, and Darth Nox knew it. He called Khem to his quarters after he had dressed. He was still packing when Khem Val entered. The hulking beast had to stoop through the door. Darth Nox could see in his eyes that he hated it here, that such relaxation was for the weak. It had been too long since he had feasted. "What is it, Little Sith?" For all of his callous indignance for him, Darth Nox knew that Khem Val was grateful for exorcising Zash. They had been through hell together, and if anyone truly knew Darth Nox for exactly what he was, it was the Dashade. Everyone else had seen some form of mask, an illusion he tailored specifically for them. Friends they were not, each counted the days to the others' death, yet they were inextricably linked. Allies was a closer word. And he'd need an ally in the days to come.

"I've never told you about my past, have I, Khem?" Khem scoffed. "Why would I want to know, were you not a slave?" He reacted without thinking, and when Darth Nox came to, he saw the Dashade prostrate before him, his hand outstretched, the Force grinding Khem to the floor. He let go, and Khem snapped straight. His enormous muscles rippled with rage, but he did nothing save breathe heavily into his face. Darth Nox was filled with fear and fury both. He knew Khem Val had not meant insult, but Darth Nox could not allow such insolence on so raw a subject. He was sure Khem would remember this. Now was the time to play nice. "I will not go into detail but yes. Just as you were bound to me, the irony is not lost on me." Darth Nox began to pace, his hands calmly moving in time. He had practiced this since the apparition left. "I helped you put the memory of Vesshik Urk to rest. Now I ask for the same favor, someone from my-" Darth Nox stopped. He did not know how to put it. "-previous life has resurfaced. Someone I long thought dead. I do not know what they want, but fear it will only hurt us as a crew, a family, understand?" He could see that Khem was still seething from the indignity, but something in his eyes made him think he understood why it had happened. Khem nodded, he knew that they had all gotten close in defeating Thanaton. "Truthfully I don't know what'll happen, I'm meeting them alone. But I want you to follow me as back-up if things go bad. Besides," he smirked "odds are they'll make a fine meal." The Dashade bared his teeth. Darth Nox took it for a smile. He couldn't help but chuckle as well. Khem Val was nothing if not fearsome, and he was relieved for the support. "Good, here's where we're headed."

The next few hours passed by in a numb blur. He hardly took notice of the soldiers' salutes and the citizens' bows as he marched in the heavy rain. The robes he was wearing were modest by Sith standards; the usual blacks and reds. Enchanted by a Voss mystic, the mysterious wisps of black ether that constantly emenated from the cloth that so terrified his enemies simply protected him from the rain. The only armor of note was the stiff collar and shoulder epaulets. He discovered long ago this out-of-fashion look made him seem slightly bigger. The thick boots also added to this. Every so often his hand would flash over the last remnant of his inheritance: Kallig's own saber. He had taken to calling it Deathsbane. Thoughts swirled in his mind too fast, too muddled to pay attention to the world. Before he knew it, he found himself dripping on the tiles before his proud ship. For a moment, he was happy. The Fury was a sight to behold. It was U-shaped, and the first time he beheld the ship it seemed like the jaws of death itself. Massive, it purred as he boarded, a bird of prey ready to take flight.

No traffic controller would dare put Nox below anyone on priority, being Lord had its perks after all, and soon he was among the stars, the ships howl descended to a hum. The Fury was one of the few places he could think without distraction. Though not small, it's confined, compartmental nature, comfortable yet spartan, spoke to him. He was not ready to travel, not yet. He needed to plan. His private chambers had seen him meditate before countless battles. He sat cross-legged on the coarse caret, and closed his eyes.

His mind's eye opened, and darkness opened before him. Darth Nox called out, "Awaken, my lords." Kallig was the only one to respond. Since he had welshed on a promise to free the Sith he had trapped, they rarely chatted anymore. Just as well, death hadn't made them any more interesting. Kallig's voice boomed in the darkness, "Blood of my blood, for centuries I have felt my legacy wither to a hollow shell of its former glory." He melted out of the blackness, a white ethereal being, yet Darth Nox could sense the firmness of shape. Kallig was a true Sith, and an awesome sight to behold. His mask, skull-like in design with a gaping hole where the mouth should be, struck inklings of terror in him still. "And now, finally, you have brought honor to your line." He gestured to Nox with his hands, palms up. "In you I am reborn. I am in your debt. Tell me then, blood of mine, what troubles you." Darth Nox hesitated. "My lord, you knew who I was when we met so many months ago. Tell me, do you know my family as well?" Kallig, the first time Darth Nox had ever seen any such sympathetic emotion in a Sith, bowed his head. "I have always known that you would be the one, Argiosul. When you were born I awoke from centuries of slumber. Yet before you arrived on Korriban, my sight was limited. I only knew that you were alive, nothing more. I never saw your face until that night." It was Darth Nox's turn to look away. "It was only when _you _knew that you were Sith that I could follow you, and I saw everything. But as for your family, I know what you ask, my blood. No, I cannot see Aquinare." Darth Nox suspected as much, but the disappointment was sour all the same. Kallig continued, "I suspect you seek guidance?" Darth Nox could only nod. Kallig sighed. "Truthfully, I have none to give. I would not know what to do either. What you called an apparition in your mind we called Phantoms. They were popular in my time as assassins, but they took mastery of the darkest of sorcery to conjure, and they always required a great sacrifice. Be wary, blood of my blood, strike first, strike hard."

Darth Nox returned to the physical realm. His gut was telling him that this was a trap. A pretender to his new throne. The same alarm bells rang deep inside him about Zash and Thanaton. It had kept him alive. Fact was though, that not a living soul could know about his past besides his sister. He had assumed she died. Maybe even hoped for it. But now that he was faced with the prospect of her alive, he knew it was time to make amends. To make the family whole again. Without his past he could not be who he was now. If she could teach him to summon phantoms so much the better. _Of course_, he thought as he punched in the coordinates, _that doesn't mean I won't put you to rest as well sweet sister._


	3. Chapter 3

III.

In the days when Sith blood ran pure, there were lines even the Darkest of Lords did not cross without hesitation. Murder and deceit were as common as sand on Korriban, but an unspoken law ruled over all. Parricide was the mark of the weak and the cowardly. Killing the child who threatens dishonor was only just, but the death of a parent by the hand of their own young was the ultimate overreach, the sign of a Sith willing to do anything, and achieving nothing for it. The arrival of the Dark Lords, the Exiles, and the ascendance of Naga Sadow did little to change this. Of course, it was not a crime per se in the Empire, at least for the Sith, and several notable Lords have carved their fortune out of the flesh of their mothers and fathers, but they rarely reach far. The Dark Council has never rewarded a kinslayer with ascendance to their ranks. Darth Nox knew this too well. Aquinare did not merely threaten embarassment with publicizing his past. She outright threatened his life. He could only imagine what fate the other Council members would save for him if they found out. The sound of Thanaton's neck cracking haunted him as he stepped off the ship, dust kicking up from the ground.

Argiosul killed his mother 17 years ago, and his life had forever changed. Now was the time to ensure the night that gave him his freedom did not take it back.

The planet was an unremarkable one. Far in the Outer Rim, even the Hutts saw the glorified moon as not worth the effort. Endless steppe and an infinite blue sky. Quite beautiful, really, but crops did not grow, and water had to be pumped from miles below the surface. Its forgettable name came from a species long extinct, exterminated by another dead civilization that could not fare any better. His master called it home. Argiosul called it hell. Darth Nox vaguely remembered arriving, trying desperately to find possible routes for escape as they marched. The Twi'lek saw this. "Go ahead and run. Grass will be growing through your ribs within a week." He was a hard master, made his fortune in the Cartels, and quit at just the right time with an ill-gotten fortune. Decided he would retire in style, parties every night to rival those on Nar Shadda. Slave turnover was frequent. There was no road to the Villa, but Darth Nox remembered the route well. The only sound for miles was crunch under his feet and the wind dancing in the praire around him.

Days passed on the lonesome steppe. Khem should be a few hours behind, Darth Nox thought. His food was running low and the sun baked his skin. Yet he could not risk the villa's air-defense systems still being online. The long march was the only way to be sure. He and Aquinare had bickered behind their mother's back as they walked. Their mother had not said a word to them in weeks. She stared into the distance with listless eyes when they were sold to their new master. Rhaena had spent 20 years in slavery, her children were born in chains. She hardly ever spoke to her them, and even more rare were kind words, but once a month Rhaena would sink into a heavy trance, almost another person. Argiosul and Aquinare quickly learned their mother would not only talk to them as she dreamed, but even tell of her past. Something bruises taught them was a taboo subject when she was awake. They were human slaves, a rarity, and the children simply wanted to know why their luck was so poor. One night under the endless blanket of stars, only another day's march from the villa, Rhaena began to recount her story in its entirety, not piecemeal as before. The fire was weak, but the children could see her eyes did not glow with the dreamy light of the trance. They made no note of it.

Decades ago, Rhaena, descendant of the Dark Lord Kallig, was a beautiful young woman. This still showed in her flowing, jet-black hair, full lips, and regal profile, though now with time and sorrow her beauty had diminished. For centuries the great line had not produced a single force-sensitive. She was the first in a long time. It was settled, she would go to the Sith Academy and bring back the glory of the legacy. Rhaena herself was not only honored, but thrilled. That soon changed as she discovered she was the worst in her class. She could not summon the force on command, it came in fits. She survived her first trial only when her overseer witnessed her in her trance, dreamwalking. She was sent to study prophecies and divination under Overseer Ragate, and for a while she thrived. She was not only adept, but an outright prodigy. Ragate struggled to keep up with her. However, it was discovered she was pregnant. Not a problem inofitself, but she named a powerful Darth as the father. The Dark Council quickly took control of the scandal, and ensured the father's name was never released. Two weeks later Overseer Ragate accused Acolyte Rhaena of conspiring to rise in rank on unfounded lies. She was dismissed from the Academy, and incurred a heavy debt. Her family disowned her in dishonor. She entered a contract of indentured servitude to pay off the debts, but it was quickly out of her hands. She became a slave, and delivered the children in slave quarters to a midwife with a shock collar. She named them after two of the first Dark jedi to arrive on Korriban, something Argiosul had not known. Her cheeks glistened in the starlight. There was no moon. The children turned to eachother, and looked away.

Life in the Villa fell into a rhythm. Rhaena worked in the kitchen, Aquinare the maid to one of the twi'lek's mistresses, and Argiosul fought for the drunken, lecherous "court". By the time he came of age, funds were running low, Master could not afford to make the pit slaves fight to the death, but all the same, bones were broken, blood spilt, and sand soaked. No rules save spare the face. The fights were fast and brutal. When he won, he sat with the scum of the galaxy for dinner. The family rarely saw eachother. One slave, a fellow fighter, a Mirialan, took Argiosul under his wing. Taught him Basic, Huttese, his own native tongue, and Rattataki. They devoured books as the crowds lay passed out in a drunken stupor and the slaves walked freely. Unsurprisingly, Sith biographies and histories of the Empire fascinated the young slave. He tried to share his knowledge with Aquinare when he could. She rarely talked, her eyes were blue and skin dark like her mother's. He saw them occasionally whispering away in the shadows. They shot him looks.

Darth Nox kicked dirt over the fire. He was sick of opening old wounds. Sick of remembering. He pulled out his holocommunicator and called his crew back on Dromund Kaas. Talos picked up. He wringed his hands with excitement. "Ah it's you my lord! So great to hear from you! Hope your business is wrapping up nicely, I have a dossier here of possible dig sites for when you get back, but if you want I could send you the specs, the one on Belsavis looks particularly prom-" He turned and started arguing someone nearby. Darth Nox interrupted "I'd be happy to look over them when I get back but for now I'm busy. Is anyone else there?" "I'm telling you to come over here, our lord is calli- oh yes, Xalek and Lady Zavros are listening. Khem and the Pirate are off galavanting who knows where, but like I was saying, it seems there's a crash site on Belsavis that just might have artifacts dating from before the Great Hyperspa-", "I'm sure it's revolutionary Talos, and I promise we'll excavate it together, but the connection here is awful, can you pass me to Ashara?" Talos looked crestfallen. "Oh... yes my lord, apologies." Talos started passing the holocom, staring at his feet. Like a cub, Darth Nox thought for the millionth time. Blast it, I can't stand that whimpering face. He rolled his eyes. "Send me the dossier on your find, I'll see if I can't decrypt anything from my end." Talos immediately perked up. "Oh thank you my lord! Here are your apprentices, take care my lord!" He waved. Xalek's hulking frame pushed him out of view. He bowed his head. "My lord." "Xalek." "All is well I trust?" "Just business. Any word from the Council?" "A few edicts that need your signature, and Darth Marr asked that you go to Korriban to inspect Overseer Harkin. There have been complaints." Even in hologram, Xalek's eyes were fearsome, and they narrowed. "Shall I tell him you're unavailable?" He had just ascended to his seat, he couldn't slack from duties now. "No, just-" A thought flashed in his head. He grinned. Xalek saw this and cocked his head. "Go see to it yourself. You will speak on my behalf with my authority. I'm sure Harkin would love to see an old student." Xalek nodded and walked away. Not so much as a smirk. Blast it, humor was wasted on him.

Ashara picked up the holocom. Her smile weakned him. "I'm glad you called my lord. I was beginning to worry." Darth Nox snorted. "Thought I couldn't handle my own business?" Her eyes glinted. "Not as well without me." He smiled, then looked down. She was not ready for this. She didn't even know that he was a slave, as far as he could tell. "Are you alone?" She bit her lip. "Yes, my lord." What she did to him...Now was not the time though. "Listen, you'll have to wait a few days more. Whatever you're feeling I have it worse, but I will be back my love-" He stopped. Her eyebrows jumped, but her smile broke him. The words had slipped out. First time he had said it. He felt light headed. "-but when I come back, there's something I need to tell you about my past. A long story, and I fear what you'll think of me." She could sense now how serious this was. She was no longer playful. "Whatever it is, it couldn't possibly come between us. You're stuck with me my lord, I'll listen, and we'll move on." The words hung there. His chest ached. She raised her hand ."Stay safe." He couldn't speak, and shut off the holocom. He immediately wished he hadn't. He could feel the disdain of the other lord ghosts inside him. Kallig was silent. Blast them, he thought, there is no strength without passion. Sleep eluded him.

As the first fingers of dawn crept over the steppe, he could see the a thick column of smoke welcoming him back home.

The villa was on fire.


	4. Chapter 4

That morning, Argiosul ate a heavy breakfast of pastries and meats from all over the galaxy, as he did before every pit fight. Not that it helped, on the contrary, he could feel the rich food sloshing in his stomach, but he simply sought to balance the pain of future hours with a few moments of pleasure now. He sipped on a spiced coffee as Tarnak, the Mirialan, went over the last few details of the plan one last time. Argiosul enjoyed their morning coffees. It was still dark out, and they were the only ones awake in the villa. In the quiet, with the smells of the kitchen and the morning dancing about, he could, for a few minutes, imagine he was happy.

He walked the quiet halls, the silence of the dark wrapped about him. Argiosul carefully tapped on Aquinare's door, and she opened it immediately. He looked up to her face, and the dark rings under her eyes betrayed that she couldn't sleep either. Argiosul took her palm and closed his over it, passing the sedatives to her. He smiled weakly at his sister, who looked more like their mother everyday, with her dark skin, brown eyes, and regal, imposing height. Which only made it more obvious whom _he _took after. She did not return the smile, but nodded, and shut the door. Whatever resentment they had for Argiosul, they had to call a truce if they were to escape as planned.

By the time Darth Nox arrived, the Palace of Pleasure and Pain was a charred corpse, rotting in the sun. Aquinare stood in the heart of the remains, clouded in a silvery haze of ash and bitter smoke. He could feel her power. She had always made him feel small, and here he stood, a Darth, a Sith Lord, a member of the Dark Council, and yet, he could feel a trickle of fear wind down his spine. She turned to him, and lowered her hood. She was dressed in simple, rural garb. Ashen flakes swam in the air about them, and Darth Nox felt as if he was in a dream. So much planning, plotting of what he would do when he saw his sister again, and here he stood, unmoving. Transfixed. Neither said anything for what seemed like centuries, unsure what the other would do. Until finally, Aquinare dug in her robe and tossed Darth Nox a canteen. "Sit brother, we have a lot to discuss."

Argiosul went over each step of the plan endlessly in his head as the day drew nearer to the fight. _Win the fight,_ he high kicked the dummy, _sedate Master and guests,_ jab jab uppercut, _highjack the barge_, roundhouse kick, _take the starship_, knee to the face, _freedom_, grapple and choke. He dropped the dummy, panting, reeking of salt and tension. Argiosul wiped his forehead. _Simple_. He picked up the dummy and set him in place again. Took a deep breath. Thought of mother, sister, and Tarnak. His family. They were so close. Hot tears raced down cheeks already wet with sweat. He got into position. _Win the fight_ He high kicked the dummy.

They sat in the ruins of their childhood. Darth Nox opened his mouth to ask just what exactl- Aquinare raised her finger. "All in good time brother, let us enjoy the morning first." She poured two small glasses of strong coffee stained with milk. She began to tell her story. She started after they had been separated, and taken the ship to the nearest Republic outpost. She wasn't in the foster care system for long before a small family on Alderaan took her in. Aquinare did not say their names, and quickly moved on. She began having visions. Piecemeal at first, but growing in intensity over the last few months. A voice whispered dark words to her, and something about them resounded deep inside her. A wispy, faceless being appeared in the night and asked for her command. Without thinking she told it to find Argiosul. "And here we are brother. Tell me why am I here." Darth Nox was taken aback. "What?" "I thought you were dead. And now I'm getting visions of you and mo-" She couldn't find her voice. A tear darted down her face. Darth Nox was angry, this was not what was supposed to happen. He snapped to his feet, jabbing his finger at her face. "_You_ sent for _me_, you tell me what we're doing here! Why did you burn down the blasted villa?!" She jumped up screaming in his face "SOMETHING ELSE CALLED YOU, NOT ME, AND THIS IS WHERE OUR FAMILY DIED, I'LL BE DAMNED IF A SINGLE BRICK IS LEFT STANDING." Both of them stood in battle readiness, breathing heavy. Darth Nox was about to reach for his saber when Aquinare's eyes rolled back, a strange glow piercing from her eyes and mouth. A dead voice passed her lips. "_She doesn't know boy._" Aquinare's hand raised limply. "_It's about time she did_." Argiosul stood in horror as his sister's body lunged at him, and as her fingers pressed the slave brands on his face, both fell to the ground unconscious.

Argiosul stood over the bossk slave, bleeding. He couldn't remember the fight, only the sound of his heart pumping in his ears. The degenerates above them were silent. Shocked. Horrified. The bossk barely clung to life. It was not his own blood that was caked over his body. Panting, he locked eyes with all the masters in the room, and bowed. Then he spat on the ground, and walked out. No one said a word. The feast was muted for the villa's standards, and before long all the guests were fast asleep at the table. The slaves cleared the table and began to rush about, packing. Aquinare and Tarnak were waiting in the barge with the other slaves, waiting, as Argiosul and Rhaena destroyed all the communicators and transmitters. As the last one lay scattered in pieces by masters bed, Rhaena grabbed Argiosul's shoulder and commanded him coldly, "One last task." They walked over to Master, passed out at the head of the table, King of the Fools. She took out a metal, handle-like cylinder. She activated the lightsaber and ran Master through, picked him up by one of his Lekku, and tossed him out the chair. "How long I've waited to do that." Argiosul opened his mouth to scream, and Rhaena backhanded him across the mouth. He tasted blood. She walked slowly towards him, the green saber humming. Her eyes glowed. "These scum will buy anything they can get their hands on if its rare enough." She closed her eyes and smiled, feeling the weight of the blade. "How long ago the Academy was…" Argiosul bolted to the door. With a flick of her wrist, the door shut with an echoing boom. He turned, shaking. She smiled. "How long I've waited for the perfect chance to fulfill the prophecy." She raised her hand, and Argiosul could feel the air escape his lungs. He scratched at his throat. "_By storm and saber, the Line will devour its own/ One will live, two will die/ The Legacy will have its throne/ But only the purest shall survive_." Held against the wall, darkness fading in, Rhaena brought the saber's point over his heart. She smiled. "I'm prepared to die, bastard child, but so will you, not in the foulest of hells will _you_ take Aquinare's rightful throne. You are my greatest disappointment boy-" She drew her arm back. "-but pleasure delayed is the sweetest."

Argiosul screamed. Rivers of fire coursed through his body. He knew nothing but pain. Then silence. He opened his eyes, and Rhaena was across the room, her clothes singed, the saber flung meters away. She stirred, and they locked eyes. There were no more words. Only hate.

Argiosul felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw Tarnak's incomprehension. Horror. He screamed for him to leave, tried to push the hulking man to the door. Tarnak turned and smiled sorrowfully, He whispered, "Go", and ran towards Rhaena. The saber sailed to her hand, but Tarnak knocked it out of the air. He grappled with his mother, and Argiosul ran to him, but it was too late. She headbutted him, and in a second he released his grip, gripped his throat, and before the boy could even scream, a green beam of light burst out of his back. The body went limp, and Rhaena let it fall off the blade. She turned to him, a demon's laugh dancing on her lips. She drew a commlink from her robes, and dialed in their coordinates while Argiosul could only empty his stomach. He turned Tarnak over, and where there should have been a warm smile, there was only confusion and pain. The only father he had ever known lay on the ground with a gaping cavern in his chest. "There, an Imperial cruiser on its way. Now only to order the slaves..." They both heard the grinding humm of the barge, "And there goes Aquinare to meet them." He looked up at his monster. She drew the saber. There were no more tears. Only fury. Argiosul ducked under the swing of the saber, heard his heart pumping in his ears. He felt a tug in his chest as he raised his hand and felt something flow through him. Rhaena was pushed back. His voice was quivering with hate. "Don't make me kill you mother." Life itself held its breath. "You dare make me beg you insolent little brat? You are not Sith, you are a coward, Argiosul, a pathetic, jumpstart SLAVE!" She screamed. Lightning flowed through his veins and jumped out of his outstretched hand. Rhaena was only mildly shocked but she hesitated. Fearful. Argiosul closed his eyes and pushed all of his hate into one infinitesimally small speck in his heart. He felt it struggle and vibrate with the intensity of a thousand suns. Then he opened his eyes and let it explode. The light from the storm blinded him, the world stank of ozone and burning flesh. He was made of hatred. He _was_ hatred. He heard a scream that was eventually silenced by the storm. When he collapsed to the floor, exhausted, he stared at his mother's charred corpse. Her face written in agony. He felt nothing. He knew what he must do.

Argiosul didn't know it was possible to run this fast. He felt something he could only describe as a force move his legs thousands of times faster than he ever could. He raced the barge to the waiting starships of the damned. He flew past the bonds of gravity and slavery. He met with the waiting cruiser in orbit. He didn't know why they didn't fire on him. He didn't know he could fly. He was not there. Argiosul had been silenced. A Sith was at the helm, and the petty Lord aboard the patrolling cruiser could sense it. He could not hear the questions of the Imperials, he could not hear their commands, he could not hear that he was being sent to the Academy.

All he could hear were the frustrated screams of his mother's death throes.


	5. Chapter 5

Ash caked the robes of Darth Nox and Aquinare as they scrambled to their feet. Their skin had a deathly, grey pallor. There were no tears for either of them. Darth Nox coughed into his hand, flakes of death billowing from his mouth. A familiar hum cut through the thick air. Aquinare had no hate, no fury, not even pain on her face. Only determination. The blue tint of the blade was what cut deepest of all. Darth Nox said nothing, but cocked his head and gave a glare that asked "really?" Aquniare shrugged.

Darth Nox: "Jedis?"

Aquinare: "Exiles, but yeah. Helped me control my visions."

He nodded.

Darth Nox: "So you knew?"

Aquinare: "Suspected. Had nightmares for years. Visions became clear when Mom came to me a couple weeks ago, hinted at it. Said I wouldn't believe it until I knew for sure."

Darth Nox: "So she's in you?"

Aquinare: "Far as I can tell."

She nodded to his hand. Darth Nox put up his hand in a stop gesture. _In a minute sister_, _I'm just confused_. He pointed to her.

Darth Nox: "But why do _you_ want to kill me?"

Aquinare's brows furrowed. "I'm not a Jedi. I don't care about the prophecy. I just want to move on, and I can't do that while I know you're still alive. Don't act like you weren't going to do the same thing, _Sith_." Without thinking, Darth Nox smiled at that. Her eyes narrowed. "Let's end this." Darth Nox still smirked. In the moment of truth, he realized he harbored no hate for his sister. Never had really. _Today isn't about revenge_, Darth Nox thought as he drew his saber, letting it fall by his side. _Just closure_. Aquinare spread her feet, tensed, hopping from one foot to the other, as she raised her saber. Death's Bane crackled darkly along the length of his leg. He had expected his sister to be much more prepared to fight. This stance was amateur hour. Still merited caution, but now he laughed inwardly at how _frightened_ he had been before. Relief flooded through him. It would be over quickly. Darth Nox silently gave thanks to Kallig and even Zash and Thanaton for creating a Sith Lord out of a boy. This was the first time he faced a decidedly _less_ prepared opponent than him, he decided to throw her off her guard by anger before springing the trap.

Death's Bane flickered off. He slouched, his right leg bent at an angle, the heel touching his left instep. He raised his gloved hand, inspecting nails he couldn't see. Aquinare was furious. She gestured wildly, and her voice covered the Dashade's advance. "NO, YOU DON'T GET TO ACT LIKE SOME BIG-SHOT _ARGIOSUL_, I SAW WHAT HAPPENED THAT NIGHT." He flicked his fingers under his chin to her in one fluid motion. Aquinare's mouth dropped, and her body trembled in anger. Darth Nox sneered, "You saw one night six years ago. I'm not _just_ a 'big shot', sister. I'm a _Darth_, a Dark Lord of the Sith. I've broken thrones, I've killed a False Emperor, and I've tamed the beast of Tulak Hord. Isn't that right Khem?"

She turned and barely managed to raise her blade in time to parry his heavy vibro-sword. She buckled under its weight, but managed to dodge his next strike. He could feel her confusion and anger. Aquinare was acting purely on instinct. Perfect. Darth Nox brought Death's Bane to his side as he sprinted to her. He had to wait for the right moment for a clean strike. Khem seemed to sense his thoughts, and appeared to stumble, giving Aquinare just enough time to raise her blade for a killing blow-

Darth Nox knew he'd never forget the sound it made when he buried the family saber in her back. The resistance he felt in the blade as it cut through. He vowed to use this memory in the future. Sorrow and pain, he had found, made as good sources of strength as anger and hatred.

Aquinare crumpled, the blade falling out of her hand. Darth Nox allowed his blade to recede back to the handle, and slowly guided her body to the ground. She was fading fast, her eyes, thankfully, already had the thousand yard stare. Khem stood by, arms crossed as Darth Nox desperately began the rite. This was the turning point. He placed his fingers on her forehead and sank into the dream world. He felt pain, sadness, solitude, doubt, and most of all regret. He could see nothing but a black void. It was an unspeakable feeling, and Darth Nox could only open his eyes and see the lifeless corpse of his sister growing cold in a field of ashes and dust.

"Let's go Khem, take the body."

It was a muted affair in the tomb of Kallig. The body lay in an open sarcophagus, hands crossed, eyes closed, calm look on her face. The usual funeral fare. Frankly, she looked nothing like in life. Her eyes glinted like a bird of prey in the hot sun. If he was honest with himself, Darth Nox could see his sister having become a Jedi Knight with the proper training. A true foe. He imagined a climactic final confrontation on a bridge over a river of molten lava, each painfully reminding the other of a past love that really hadn't been there to begin with, but it would've been so dramatic and Argios-ahem Darth Nox would then have said something devastating and cutting about staying alive and doing the family proud by reclaiming the Legacy and Aquinare would have a moment of doubt, maybe even a tear, and he'd cut her down. Yeah that would've been fantastic. Better than stabbing a Padawan in the back. He didn't feel any remorse, just regret that it ended so anticlimactically. He stood by the coffin carved in Sith Runes, facing his crew.

They were all sitting in a meditative pose. For a moment it seemed they were worshipping him. Darth Nox liked that. He was dressed in his Dark Council robes, grey and black, with absurdly large shoulder caps and sharp coat tails. The helmet that went with it looked ridiculous, and Darth Nox preferred to show off his carefully trimmed beard whenever possible anyway. It lay gathering dust in his chambers. His crew was somber. While Khem was outraged he wouldn't let him eat his sister, Darth Nox promised that he would explain why. The way he licked his fangs hinted that he was still hoping for a meal, even one so weak. Xalek and Andronikos were cautious but didn't see to particularly care one way or the other. Possibly day dreaming of what they would do when they were dismissed. Only Ashara and Talos seemed to actually grieve. If this woman was so important to Master…

Darth Nox wanted to finish the ceremony quickly, and stood before the crew, ready to give his speech. It seemed a waste of time, he hadn't felt Aquinare in him at all, the rite failed. He just wanted to pay his respects and erase this bitter experience in the sheets with his apprentice. She seemed to sense the mood change and smirked, but waited for him to speak.

"Stand." And they stood. The words that were so carefully prepared seemed to melt away. He could only speak his mind. "The simple truth is not all of us become the man or woman we once hoped we might be." He stopped. These were the last seconds before they knew the truth. His voice was soft in the dank, warm crypt. "Before I was a Sith, I was a slave. I had a family. A mother and a sister. My mother tried to murder me. I killed her. My sister wanted justice, I killed her-" He gestured to the corpse. "-I struck down my own flesh, my own blood to save my life. In so doing, I fulfilled a prophecy, one I had no intention of following." The crew were stunned. Khem had not even known. Their silence pounded in his ears. Darth Nox could feel the blood rush to his face, not in anger, but in shame. "My mother taught me _blood over all_, yet...we see that's not true. My family only cared about fulfilling a Legacy of our ancestor, a centuries-long dead Sith-" He choked. As he locked eyes with each of his followers, he had a revelation. They were exactly that. His _followers_. Darth Nox steeled his voice. "But she was right." They started. "You 6 have have followed me, sweated for me, bled for me. That is more than my mother and sister have ever done for me. Family-" He raised his hand, opening and closing his hand into a fist, "-is shared blood. _We_ have shared blood, pain, and triumph." Darth Nox stepped down from the dais, and walked among them. He touched them, and looked up to their faces. "_We_ aren't servants and master. That was my relationship with _them_." He turned to them, and raised his arms. "I might have struck down one family. But I created another." They were stunned. That came out a little passionate, but blast it, that was the truth. Were it not for them, he'd be dead.

And that's when he heard her. _She's beautiful, when's the wedding_? Darth Nox could do nothing but drop his arms and snort. The tension broke among the _family_-that was going to be tough to get used to-and once they saw him straighten up, they knew the levity was over. "That changes nothing about how we're organized, understood?" They nodded, Khem and Xalek begrudgingly. Darth Nox flicked his hand, and the cover to Aquinare's sarcophagus bellowed as it set. The final ghost he'd ever have to deal with. Hopefully. He stared at them, and they stood at attention. Talos beaming with pride. Andronikos, cautious admiration. Khem and Xalek the smallest smidge of respect. Ashara did not smile. They would have words, but there was hope in her eyes.

"Report to the Citadel in three hours. Ashara, follow me if you please."

The others quickly exited into the Dark Temple proper. Ashsara still did not smile, and had trouble meeting his eye. Darth Nox felt something gnawing in him. He reached forward and held her hands. Ashara did not retract them. No tears, no sentimentality, just a curt nod. Their future was still together. Darth Nox smiled, leaned in, and whispered in her ears. "No in-laws."

Ashara chortled. Aquinare groaned.


End file.
